


the gentle fall

by elmshore



Series: Wayhaven Week 2020 [4]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Other, Porn with Feelings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25283716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elmshore/pseuds/elmshore
Summary: Bellamy is ready to take their relationship with Nate to the next level, and Nate is happy to oblige.
Relationships: Detective/Nathaniel "Nate" Sewell, Nathaniel "Nate" Sewell/Detective
Series: Wayhaven Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827454
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	the gentle fall

Not for the first time this evening, Bellamy wonders what possessed them into going through with this.

They’re in Nate’s room, on his bed, nestled between his legs and their back against his chest — his  _ bare _ chest, their mind so helpfully clarifies — and his arms are wrapped around them, gentle yet firm.

The room is quiet, albeit for the hum of the air conditioning, and the coolness of the air makes them shiver a bit, goosebumps rising along their exposed skin, and a thought suddenly strikes them. Even after dating for a few months now, this is the first time they have been so unclothed around Nate. Around anyone, to be honest.

Gone are their layers of shirts and hoodies and jeans, leaving them in only their underwear and a thin flannel shirt. The latter has been unbuttoned and opened, to provide access to the skin underneath. All of this is new for them, this type of exposure — it’s been so long, since they let themselves be seen like this — and the feeling is just a little uncomfortable.

His hands rest in their lap, cradling their own, fingers intertwined. Behind them, they can feel his breath, warm and steady, against their neck. And against their back, his heart beats, solid and calm, the opposite of their own. Bellamy’s heart pounds in their chest, like some wild animal trying to free itself from a cage, anxiety threatening to consume them, and they know he can hear it. 

Figures, this might have been their idea, but of course they’re the ones to freak out.

Lips press into the nape of their neck, gentle in a way that sends ripples through them. Nate’s thumbs rub soothing circles into their palms, the repetitive motion helping to quell some of their nerves, grounds them in this moment.

“We don’t have to go further, if you’re uncomfortable,” he says, offering them a way out, and he means it. They know all they have to do is say the word and he’ll let them leave, would smile and kiss them in that sweet way he always does and bid them goodnight. “You don’t have to push yourself, love.”

The tenderness in his voice breaks them, leaves them aching in a way they still find strange, and they swallow down a lump of emotions.

“No, I’m alright,” they say, voice shaky, and give his hands a squeeze. “I want this. I want you.” Their words hang around them and they feel, rather than hear, Nate’s deep intake of breath. Around them, his arms tighten.

His lips are back on their neck, trailing a path up, and Bellamy sighs, pushes closer into him, all of a sudden becoming keenly aware of their own body. Heat unfurls through them, pools deep in their stomach and spreads lower, and when teeth graze the tender flesh of their throat, they can’t quite swallow the moan that escapes them.

Then, his hands move. One ghosts up, sneaking inside the open shirt and when they feel fingertips brush over their nipple, they whine, low and needy. He starts gently, traces circles around it, but then he rubs a thumb over it and a jolt of electricity surges through them.

Bellamy wants to say something, but any words they might have considered turn to ash when they feel his other hand slide past the waistband of their underwear and they shiver, pulse racing. There is a fire burning through them and a growing wetness between their legs.

When he runs a finger along their slick folks, their spine curve, lips parting in a silent cry.

Nate pulls them back, holds them in place, and says, “I want you too.”

The words send a wave of pleasure and excitement straight to their core. With a sudden burst of boldness, they twist, turning in his arms and grasp his shoulders. Leans down and kisses him with a fervor that surprises even them. His lips part for them immediately and they relish the taste of him, letting it fill them. He drops the hand at their breast and curls it against their hip, tight enough to hold them still, but not enough to leave marks.

A small, wild voice in the back of their mind whispers that they  _ want _ him to leave marks.

His hand leaves them, slides out of the underwear, and they break the kiss, perhaps to argue against the action, but he only smiles. “I think it best if we remove these,” he says, low and rough, a tone they’ve never heard from him before and realizing what he means, Bellamy nods, hands hurrying to do so.

It’s not graceful and they almost lose their balance, Nate’s hand at their side the only thing keeping them steady, but they get the item off with a huff and toss it to the floor. Any other moment and they might have hesitated, the idea of being so bare terrifying, but their mind is shutting down, body acting out of impulse and instinct, driven by the need to touch and be touched.

“The shirt too?”

Their own voice surprises them and the hunger that flashes in his eyes is new, but most certainly welcome, and he nods. Thankfully, this one is easier to get out of and, like the previous piece, is thrown to the floor.

And now there is nothing hiding them. 

Nate leans back against the headboard and they let him see them, eyes roam over inch of them, soaking them in.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, quiet and reverent and the sincerity in his tone takes the breath right out of them. 

They want to say something back, but none of the words feel right in this moment and so, they don’t say anything at all. Instead, they lean closer, cup his face in their hands and kiss him again. He returns it, tugs them closer, and they happily oblige, craving the closeness.

Warm fingers trail along their inner thigh and they whimper, the sound swallowed by his mouth. He pulls out of the kiss and they lean their forehead against his, their breath mingling. He doesn’t touch them where they want, not yet, rather he lets his fingers press into the damp skin and their hips buck slightly, aching with a need they haven’t felt in so long.

“Please,” they plead, voice cracking and teeth digging into their bottom lip.

“Tell me what you want, darling.”

“I want — ” they stop, fumble for the words, battle against their own nerves, and say, “Touch me. Please.”

Two fingers slide into them and they arch, body drawn like a bow. He curls them up, slides in deeper, and then a thumb is at their clit, caresses it, and they rock into his touch. Hands grasp his shoulders, dull, bitten-down nails digging into the flesh, and it feels like every nerve in their body lights up. “Fuck,” is all they manage, a third finger joining the fray, and damn, he’s good at this.

Nate dips his head low and when they feel a tongue roll over their nipple, the sound they make is borderline pathetic. “I want you to feel good, dearheart,” he breathes against their skin and they want to cry, at the adoration in his voice. 

Then he’s moving, switches their positions with a speed they can’t track, and Bellamy is being pressed down into the soft sheets, featherdown pillow under their head. Nate hovers over them and for the first time since this idea popped into their head, they feel completely at ease.

This is Nate. They trust him, more than they trust anybody, and they smile up at him. Lifts a hand and presses it against his cheek.

He turns his head, kisses their palm, and moves down. Gentle hands part their legs and when the cool air hits them, they pant, lightheaded. He presses a kiss to their stomach, then just under their belly button, and finally against their inner thigh — each one sends a shockwave ripping through them. A part of their brain, still rational, knows what he’s going to do and yet, nothing quite prepares them for the first flick of his tongue.

It rolls over their clit and their spine arcs, a strangled cry falling from their lips. Nate presses them back down, hand atop their stomach, and then two long fingers slide into them. Crook up and they grasp at the bedsheets, breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

Nate takes his time, builds his pace slow and steady. Explores them, tastes them, and they whine, wanting more,  _ more _ . Their mind is blank, occupied only by Nate, and the rest of their senses are going haywire, a sudden overload of pleasure tipping them to the brink. They’ve touched themselves before, they’re no virgin, but  _ fuck _ , it’s never felt like this.

“Nate,” they breathe, and their only response is that tongue dragging up, lips closing around their clit, and they let out a sharp cry. Lets one of their hands move down, fingers sliding into his hair, and curl around the soft locks. They need something to hold onto, something to keep them anchored.

He hums and then pulls his head up, their eyes locking, brown meeting brown. “Is this alright?”

They want to laugh at the question, but all they manage is a little nod and a shaky smile. “Very alright.”

His mouth is at their cunt once more and he’s more insistent this time, spurred on by their approval. It’s almost as if he is devouring them, like they are his last meal, and all Bellamy can do is writhe, legs spreading further, heels digging into the mattress. They can’t quite catch their breath and they know they are getting close, that familiar haze creeping at the corner of their mind.

Bellamy turns their head, presses their nose into the pillow, and as his scent fills them — clove and cinnamon, sweet and warm — they moan. Something sharp and tight coils in their lower abdomen, spreads through them, and they want to hold on, to let this last just a little longer, to — 

Nate curves his fingers just right and they come undone, head tilting back, a broken cry filling the room. All they can say is his name, over and over, and the fingers in his hair curl tighter as they ride out of the wave of pleasure. It shreds clean through them and he fucks them through all of it, tongue slowing but never wavering.

They let go, body going languid, and sink back into the bed, panting. Nate lifts his head and when his fingers leave them, they let out a small whine. He leaves kisses along their thighs and then up, over their stomach, between their breasts, and still onward. Across their collarbone, at their chin, and finally, mercifully, he claims their mouth. Bellamy tastes themselves on his tongue and it sends a shiver through him, an arm wrapping around his neck.

Now, it’s their turn to explore. 

One of their hands slides down, over the plains and dimples of his stomach, feeling the muscles flex under their touch. They break the kiss, bump their forehead against his, and stare up at him. “I want to feel you inside of me,” they say and he growls, a feral sound. Kisses them, teeth knocking together, and then pulls back to look at them.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He nods and shifts, leaning over the edge of the bed and reaches for the table beside it. Opens a drawer and comes back with a condom. Briefly, they consider teasing him for keeping one on hand, but their tongue feels like syrup, heavy and slick, and the words won’t come.

With a grace that seems unfair, Nate removes his remaining pieces of clothing — the pants joining the rest on the floor — and Bellamy revels in the sight of him. He looks like a character straight out of a romance novel, lean and muscular, and they reach for him, unable to help themselves. Fingers run down his chest and he shivers, allows the touch, watching them all the while.

Feeling braver than they have all night, Bellamy lets their fingers dip lower and when they ghost over his length, he sucks in a tight breath. They curl a hand around his cock and stroke, up and down, motions lazy and experimental. When they dare a look up at his face, it’s their turn to draw in a shallow gulp of air. 

His eyes, normally such a warm brown, are practically black, pupils blown wide. They drag a thumb over the head and the sound that leaves him is almost primal. Then, a hand lurches forward, wraps around their wrist, and pulls them away. 

Nate pushes them back into the mattress and gracefully rolls on the condom. He lets go of their wrist and both of his hands are at their hips then, eyes trailing along their body before flicking back to meet theirs. 

“Lift your hips for me, darling,” he breathes and they are only too happy to do so, a new wave of heat washing over them as he settles between their legs.

He brushes himself against their folds and they inhale, holding in the breath, nerves buzzing. “You’re sure?” He asks again and this time they do laugh, though it comes out more like a huff. They can feel the wetness coating them and it is easy to see from the look on his face how much he wants them, as much as they do, and yet he holds back. Ready to stop, if they tell him so.

“Nate,” they say and he looks at them, gaze hungry, “fuck me. Please.”

When he sinks into them, they both moan, echoing and mixing together in harmony. Their legs lift, hook around his waist, and he leans forward, hands bracing on either side of them. Nate rolls his hips against them slowly, easing deeper into them, and Bellamy groans, eyes closing. There is a dull throb, but the pleasure is quickly overriding the minimal discomfort.

They raise their arms, wind them around his middle, and press their hands into his back, trying to pull him closer.

And they want him, all of him, until it’s impossible to tell where they end and he begins.

His head bows, mouth leaving wet kisses along their neck, and it’s strange, but when they feel his mouth pass over what remains of the scar Murphy left on them, all they feel is want — a part of them wishes he would give them a new scar, mark them as his own, but they know better than to ask that of him. They think it might hurt him, and that’s the last thing they want to do.

Each thrust of his hips makes the muscles in his back tense and Bellamy drags their nails along the flesh, feeling the beads of sweat gathering on both of them, leaving marks that heal quickly. They turn their head, drag their teeth over the shell of his ear, and Nate snarls, hips snapping into them sharply, and they gasp.

One of his hands moves, slides between their bodies and two fingers roll over their clit. They gasp, head swimming, and clutch at his back, legs tightening around him. He presses their foreheads together and he is panting right along with them.

“You feel divine,” he whispers, and Bellamy closes the little distance between them.

He kisses them in a way that feels consuming, overwhelming, and they give into him completely. His fingers are purposeful in their movements and they can feel themselves coming apart once more, body tensing, that familiar sensation flooding into every nerve.

“Come for me, love,” he urges and that is all it takes.

Their vision goes white as they lose control, keening brokenly into his ear, his name falling from their mouth as if it were the only word known to them. All that matters is him, only him — inside of them, all around them.

Nate buries his face into the crook of their neck, nose brushing against their pulse, and then he comes, body shuddering as he breathes their name into their throat. He says it like a prayer and they moan, hold him through it, his hips rocking into them twice, three more times, and then they both go still, breathing hard.

He pulls out, slowly, and they let go, body loose and numb.

Nate stares down at them, affection clear in his gaze, and it makes their heart flutter. He smiles, pushes the damp curls from their face, and places a kiss to their cheek. They feel like their floating, body and mind detached.

“Are you alright?” He asks, moving then to settle down beside them, and they turn to face him. 

He drapes an arm around their waist and they scoot closer, tucking themselves into his chest. Rests their head under his chin and wraps an arm around him in return. Takes a moment to listen to his heartbeat.

“Never better,” they say and his soft chuckle rumbles through them, the sound lulling them closer to sleep. He gives them another kiss, this one atop their head, and they let their eyes close.

They fall into that gentle darkness, his fingers drawing soothing circles against their lower back, and it’s the first time, in a very long time, that they’ve welcomed sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Fourth day in the prompt event and I decided to make it smut lol. Or well, the characters decided, it was out of my hands. This is my first time writing Nate, so I hope I did him some justice!
> 
> Kudos and/or comments are greatly appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!


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